Monday, March 10, 2008

well there's poor then there's poor

That's the opening line from a song my friend Dan wrote today. He recorded it and sent it to me. It is very good. When there is a proper version of it I'll pass it along.

Yesterday I learned something about my friends when I was trying to be told something else about them. Another person, my dad, was trying to get me to join the military. And he was saying I've wasted the past 8 or so years of my life. And that my friends don't care about me. I threw rocks across the street at a real estate sign that I couldn't hit. I drank box wine from a red solo cup and tried not to cry when trying to defend my actions/feelings/loves up to that exact moment. But I didn't do any actual defending. I sort of caved, and agreed that maybe things could be better, or at least different.

Bill came home. Crystal came home. Juliana and Bobb came home. Bert came over. Stephanie came over. We shared drinks and stories of the disconnect between us and our parents. How I am spoiled that my mother shows general interest in the things I do, the songs I sing, the pictures I take, and the things I write, and that none of our other parents understand what we are doing. They were all married, with kids, and careers by this point in their lives. Some were on their second marriage already. They don't see the point in working jobs we hate to have enough money for rent in a house with our best friends and buy 24 packs of beer on a sunday night. They don't see the point in anything we do. And that is ok. They still all love us, and they still wants nothing but the best for us, but their best and our best are different. I can tell you that we all care about each other, and we all include each other in most of our plans and decision making.

And I learned something about myself.

I can find something to be passionate about. I think I found it. And I learned that I can tell someone something and not need their approval, or a response. I can say something so that I know it has been said, and that is all that matters.

I'm learning to apply my diy/punk rock ethics to other areas of my life. It makes me smile.

4 comments:

Amelia said...

I thought you went back home mainly for your friends. I can understand that... people are strange, when you're a stranger... and it can be lonely.

But there are lots of other friends you could make in your life, too - other people who have that potential for you. There were no doubt some in Chicago but you didn't give yourself a chance to meet them.

If you were happy in your work I would be the last person to say you need to quit and get a 'proper' job or what have you. I don't believe that is the answer for everyone, or the military! It's just that you seemed so unhappy before.

And even if you change tracks at some stage, it doesn't mean that the past eight years have been wasted, at least not how I see it!

At least you're a guy, and you don't have to try and have all your babies while you're young. You can start when you're 40! Most unfair. Hiss.

Amelia said...

You'd have to have a trophy wife, though.

ImPerceptible said...

What up with people wanting you to join the fucking military? If you need some discipline I'm sure we can work something out...

When you spend 13+ years growing up with people they become more like family than anything else. You'll have plenty of friends in your life but few that understand where you're coming from because they were there. Plus they have to be nice to you because you have just as much dirt on them as they have on you. And pictures. :)

You're right about parents. We say and do stupid things when we are worried and don't know how to help. I think it's a side effect from cleaning too much poop. But it does come from love. The desire for our children to be happy is almost overwhelming at times. But if you're a good parent you are very proud when they tell you - thanks for your advice but I'm doing things my own way. That way you know you raised them right.

You make me smile.

Amelia said...

Imperceptible is going to discipline you now? Well, really. I say!

This was another wounded-puppy post, wasn't it.

I have to stop falling for this shenanigans.